


An Evening of Respite

by Loxare



Series: Days and Nights [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfam Content War 2017, Gen, It's a sads sandwich on fluff bread!, more fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxare/pseuds/Loxare
Summary: Damian is back. But Todd hasn't come to the hill.





	An Evening of Respite

Damian sat on top of the hill, trying to sketch. There was a small family of birds who had taken up residence in a tree at the edge of the clearing, just out of sight. Out of normal sight. The odd tightening at the back of his eyes was the only physical sensation of his new powers, besides the birds suddenly being as large and clear as if he had flown up to their nest.

His new powers were great, for the most part. Being out with Father was definitely easier. He could go and fight and not have to worry about being shot or beaten or stabbed. He could fly, and he could see very far distances, which made looking for crime easier as well. Outside of crime fighting however...

A sudden pain in his temple flared, and Damian, startled, snapped his pencil in half. His shouted curse scared the birds, who huddled further down in their nest and out of sight. Titus uncurled from his spot on the ground and rested his head on Damian's thigh. Damian sighed, and gave Titus a gentle pat. “I'm alright. But constantly altering my vision between the birds and my sketchbook is... painful.”

If he were being honest, that was an understatement. His head was killing him, and he knew from past experience that it would continue to do so for a number of hours. At least he knew he wasn't immune to headaches as he was to most other forms of damage. Perhaps he'd tell Father next time they ran a test of his powers. Although that would likely result in another round of tests while Father tried to figure out why.

Damian understood that his father was Batman, and as Batman he had to know everything about every tool at his disposal. He also knew that if he referred to himself as a 'tool' in Father's presence, he would get an hour lecture about how he wasn't, that he was Father's son, and that Father was proud and wanted him to grow up happy and loved. If not in those same words. But Grayson had long since translated Father's standard speeches for him, so Damian got the idea.

He probably should tell Father about the headaches. But they only happened when Damian drew, so logically if he stopped drawing, then he could stop getting headaches, then he wouldn't have to bother Father. But also, drawing was one thing Damian couldn't give up.

He huffed and looked at the path leading to the manor. Where was Todd? Damian had been coming here every day since his return, but Todd hadn't showed up once. And Damian knew he wasn't busy. Drake had posted a picture of Todd in a bookstore with the caption, “A Jason in its natural habitat” to his Snap Chat. If he had time to spend with _Drake_ of all people, he had more than enough time to spend with Damian.

With a growl of frustration, Damian decided to take matters into his own hands. He set his sketchbook on top of his rock, told Titus to stay, then flew off as fast as he could towards Todd's current safehouse.

He was in and out in seconds, grabbing Todd's favourite book in one hand and tucking Todd under the other. Titus had been left alone for perhaps a minute when Damian and Todd set down.

Todd stood for a moment, stunned, and with all his hair sticking up and to the left. Then his brain caught up. “Damian, what the hell?!”

Damian went back to his rock and his sketchbook, settling on drawing Titus this time. “What? It's not like you were busy.”

“I was fixing my helmet.”

“Again. If it breaks that often, you should consider making it out of another material.” His drawing of Titus was nearly blocked in, the shapes he'd need sketched very lightly in a hard pencil. He grabbed a slightly softer one (5H), and started putting details into Titus' face. Todd was still standing. “Well? Aren't you going to read?” He gestured to the book that was laying in Todd's usual spot.

Todd ran a hand through his hair. “You can't just kidnap people when you want to hang out with them!”

“I waited for nearly a week for you to show up. You knew I was... returned, but you didn't make the trip here. So I took matters into my own hands.”

Todd grumbled, grabbing his book and opening it to a random page. “It's not like I come up every single day or anything.”

“Perhaps not, but Pennyworth told me it was polite to pay one a visit after they recovered from an illness.”

“Dead isn't an illness. It can be the product of an illness, but it isn't an illness in and of itself. You were dead, and therefore the rules of etiquette don't apply.”

Damian thought he would have reacted to the word. “Dead”. He had when Father had told him where he'd been for the last few months, and why it was fall instead of spring. He had when some random thug had thrown death threats at him, ones he had heard so often before but seemed so much more intimidating now. But he didn't. Not from Todd.

Todd understood.

“Besides,” Todd continued, “I almost never come up in the winter. Way too cold.”

“Oh.” Damian hadn't noticed, he really hadn't, but he supposed it was a bit chilly out today. It wasn't snowing, but when he breathed, vapour clouds formed. “I see.” Using his super speed again, he grabbed Todd and Titus and flew to the manor library. “Is this better?”

“Stop doing that!” Now Todd's hair was sticking up towards the right. “For fuck's sake kid, give a guy some warning!”

“Before what? Taking you someplace warm?” Damian huffed. The ingratitude. He started for the stairs that would take him to the second floor. “Come Titus.” When he reached the top, he made to turn left, towards the couches.

Todd tapped him on the shoulder quickly. “Not that way pop tart. Best spot is this way.” And he headed towards the right.

The shelf that Todd disappeared behind looked – from most angles – flush against the wall. But when Damian leaned directly against the wall, he could see the gap just wide enough for Todd to fit through. Todd's shoulders were massive, so Damian had plenty of space to walk through, but there was a moment when he thought he felt something boxing him in from behind. It turned out to be Titus following him into the space, but the feeling didn't subside until Damian entered the room Todd had led him to.

It was rather large. Not quite as big as the second parlour, but close. There was a floor-to-ceiling window that gave Damian a rather nice view of the gardens. There was also a couch, a table, and a few chairs scattered about. The rest of the room was filled with shelves, which were filled with books. It wasn't surprising, given that this was the library, but he recognized most of these as being scattered throughout Todd's safehouses.

“Set this place up when I was your age, with Alfred's help. Took Bruce two years to figure out that he was missing a room, and a few shelves.” Grabbing one end of the couch, Todd tilted it so it was facing the window at a 45 degree angle. Then he flopped himself onto the spot closest to the window. “Make yourself at home. Same deal as the hill.”

Feel free to come any time, but don't bother Todd while he was reading. Damian could accept that. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch, the side with the best view of the gardens, and started sketching.

Only twenty minutes later, however, he started getting bored of his subject matter. It would always be there, and largely the same. Winter was coming, yes, but the garden wouldn't change much between today and tomorrow. So, Damian shifted himself slightly on the couch, as if he were simply getting comfortable. But now he had a good view of Todd as he slouched in his seat, legs sticking straight out in front of him, with Titus curled up under his thigh.

Damian was nearly done his drawing, Todd's pose only broken when he flipped a page, when the sound of cloth on wood came at them from the entrance. Todd groaned. “Every frickin' time.”

Sure enough, Father appeared in their space behind the shelves with a mug in one hand and a stack of case files in the other. “I hope you boys don't mind. I need somewhere quiet to work.”

“No, of course not, why would we mind?” If Todd had said that any more sarcastically, Damian would have expected actual barbs to come out of his mouth. “You're only ruining my peace and quiet. I was behaving myself, just ask Damian. But no, you can't just leave me be.” He sighed and stood up. “I'm out.”

Father, who had just finished placing his things on the table, raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

“Dunno. Probably going to go burn down an orphanage or something. You know, the usual stuff I get up to when I'm not under your watchful eye.” The last Damian saw of Todd was his hand as he waved. “See you tater tot. Stay in school.”

Damian glared at Father. “Why did you do that?”

Father simply sighed. “I just wanted to spend some time with him.”

“So you drive him out of his favourite place?”

“It's the only place I know where he shows up fairly frequently and stays for long periods of time.” Father sat down heavily. “Maybe I should stop. If I keep pushing him away from here, he'll stop coming.”

“He will. Perhaps next time, instead of coming in here to work, just ask him if he wants to stay for dinner and then leave.” If there was one thing Todd loved more than reading, it was food. “Ask Pennyworth to make steamed fish over vermicelli, and he will stay.”

Father nodded. “Good idea. Thank you Damian.”

Damian nodded. Father often needed assistance figuring out his children. He was the world's greatest detective, and his files on each child were very extensive. But putting theory into practice required a deft hand and much assistance, one of the first things Mother had taught him. Todd made sense to Damian, at least most of the time. So if he could assist Father in interacting with him, he would.

He had expected Father to leave, but instead he pulled his case files closer to him and started going through them. “You're staying?”

Father raised his eyebrows over his mug. “Of course. I came here to spend time with my sons. Unless you want me to leave.”

“No!” Damian felt his cheeks warm. In a much more sedate tone, he said, “No. I would enjoy our time together. But the hill rules apply.”

“Hill rules?”

“You keep to your thing, and I'll keep to mine.” Maybe Damian should have called them something else. Father could definitely find their spot just from that one slip-up, and he didn't want Todd to be wary about the hill as well.

Father smiled and took another sip of coffee. “Very well Damian.”

And so Damian sketched and Father worked, until the sun went down and Father turned on the lights, and further. By the Time Pennyworth called them down to supper, Damian’s sketchbook contained two new drawings, one of Todd and one of Father. But unlike his pictures of Grayson - which had loose lines flowing to the edges of the page - and Pennyworth - all soft shades and delicate pencil lines - Todd’s drawing had short, thin lines. The shading was more dynamic, but less so than Father’s. Under the room’s fluorescent bulb, the shadows became hard and deep, while also making the highlights brighter. And the lines, while strong, were gentle.

Smiling softly, Damian placed his sketchbook down on the couch and followed his father. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one is unbeta'd, because she is in school right now. If you notice any random typos, those are not my fault, I have a bandaid on my finger and it's interfering with my typing. Totally. But seriously, let me know.  
> Read and enjoy!!
> 
> EDIT: Now beta'd. Yes!


End file.
